


An Observation of Orange

by Lady Adain (pocketTherapist)



Category: Bleach
Genre: I'm pretty sure it's crack, M/M, No Plot, Only Brawl, Sorry Not Sorry, UraIchi Week 2019, no beta we die like men, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 22:20:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18926146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketTherapist/pseuds/Lady%20Adain
Summary: No Plot. Only Brawl.





	An Observation of Orange

The Eleventh is one hell of a division. For all the violence they seek out or inflict on one another, they've got one of the best survival rates of all the divisions, except the First, which only ever includes people who are geniuses of some sort, and the Fourth, which is largely noncombatant. (The Second has the worst survival rate, but that's for the assassin half, not the messenger half.) Furthermore, the rate at which they put out captains and lieutenants is a little ridiculous, nearly averaging one a century. 

 

Sano just wishes they weren't such, well,  _ dicks. _

 

Like now. He just got promoted to a Seated Officer position in the Eighth, Twelfth Seat though it is, and it's as if everyone in the Eleventh suddenly sat up and took notice. 

 

Like he was too weak to be bothered with, before. 

 

He'd be flattered, but he's too busy fighting for his life against sudden groups of ambushers or dramatically declared duels, regardless of the rank of his opponent. 

 

He really should have just let the stupid Seventh Seat win. 

 

Now he's facing down a group of mixed seated and unseated, among which he sees at least four shinigami his rank or higher. His zanpakuto isn't well made for facing multiple opponents, and his stamina is already flagging from the nonstop fighting throughout the day. These brutes don't know the meaning of grace or elegance. He grimaces and straightens his shoulders. They might send him to the Fourth, but damned if he’s going easy. 

 

Before anyone gets anywhere, though, there's a blur of motion and one of the unseated shinigami on the edge of the group goes tumbling halfway down the street, landing seated on his tailbone and wearing a comically stunned expression. 

 

All attention turns to the orange haired youth stepping out of the alley nearest Sano, cracking his knuckles menacingly. He's not wearing an insignia, and there doesn't seem to be a sword anywhere on his person. He directs a dark glower towards the group of Elevens. 

 

"I thought you guys were all about getting a good fight? This doesn't look very  _ fair _ ."

 

One of the thugs protests, and immediately gets a foot to the face, sending him sprawling next to his buddy. 

 

The orange kid rolls his shoulders and scowls at the whole set. 

 

"Well, come on then. I don't need a sword to take  _ you _ lot."

 

This gets the presumably desired result of a dozen sheathed zanpakuto and a mad charge.

 

It's immediate chaos, nothing that could even be considered Hakuda-- just a wild brawl through which the kid weaves easily, both hands in his pockets still as he dodges and trips his opponents into each other and generally makes a dozen experienced fighters look like idiots. At least two of them get frustrated enough to take a swing at someone else, and from there it dissolves into a last-man-standing free for all. 

 

It's goddamn _ art,  _ and Sano waits barely a moment before shaking off his shock, sheathing his own sword, and wading into the mess, picking out a single weakened target and putting them down efficiently before moving on to the next. 

 

At some point he and his rescuer end up back to back, defending each other from the onslaught of omnidirectional attacks. It affords him a glimpse down the alley the kid came from. 

 

There's someone lingering down there, wearing geta and carrying a cane, eyes concealed beneath a hideous piece of headgear but watching intensely nonetheless. 

 

Sano blinks and the tide of the battle shifts again, drawing his attention back away from the suspicious figure. 

 

It's not long before the previously overwhelming flood of opponents diminishes and stops, all of the Eleventh members on the ground and more or less conscious. The orange-haired shinigami is still standing, not a scratch on him, and Sano is swaying, but on his feet. 

 

He turns toward his rescuer, intending simultaneously to offer thanks and questions, but his rescuer is already turned away, vanishing down the alley. Sano only catches a glimpse of him, side by side with the previous mysterious figure, the two of them vanishing into a flashstep he can’t even  _ begin _ to follow, off to…

 

Well, somewhere, he supposes.

  
How the  _ hell _ is he supposed to explain this one?


End file.
